Synesthesia
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days like this
with crying gray skies
make me wish i was an artist
because then i could show you
how beautiful this day is
how bright people are shining
like paint pallete beacons
There are angels who bathe in colors
Painting hues of sadness and drops of courage
Upon a blank canvas waiting to be explored
Marked by the handprints of babies learning to crawl
I see the color of the sounds
As the baton mutters soft gloomy tones
My mind paints a picture of blues and greys
Colors blending and creating a scene
She has fire in her veins, and venom in her heart.
She is cool, calm, and collected
But when you cross paths with her
She can be your nightmare.
Imagine losing a perception An entire senseSightHearing TouchGoodbye everyday independence
My name is green
Just the letters and sound
It's full and green and heavy
Not at all like me.
I feel like red
Just like passion and drums
I'm red with shame and pride
The brain is a peculiar component
- so unknown and intricate.
With all the puzzles and the pieces,
which we cannot solve yet.
One of these puzzles
is a condition.
Hair wavy ripples
teal tinted aqua
skin supple
hubble bubble nipples
cripples bystanders even when fully sheathed
Sweat drips and drops and plops beneath
the penholder quivers at sweet nostalgia
I awaken to,
Sirens outside my room,
Dark grays explode in my,
Mind as I try to gather,
My senses on this ship,
That was never supposed to sink.
